


A Fucking Big Ship

by badwolfbadwolf



Series: Mating Games [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 00Q fusion, Alternate Universe, M/M, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 02:12:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1711205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfbadwolf/pseuds/badwolfbadwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>00Q/Teen Wolf fusion.  Agent Derek Hale meets his new Quartermaster in the National Gallery.</p>
<p>
  <i>“Oh, and try not to break anything with your fat fingers.  My predecessor warned me about you.”  </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fucking Big Ship

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Mating Games week 4 bonus challenge. Posted here just for funsies. Find me on tumblr at badwolfbadwolff!

Derek sat idly on the bench, one finger stroking against the rich leather as he stared at the painting in front of him.  He scanned the crowd from the corner of his eyes, irritation beginning to creep up under his skin.  Those nerds in Q-branch were always running late, and he didn’t really appreciate being made to wait.  

The gallery was only lightly busy on a Tuesday afternoon, students and families milling about while he sat stationary, the unwitting world revolving while he worked the muscle in his jaw.  One of the horribly dressed uni students settled down on the bench next to him, popping his gum and gawking at the muted colours before turning to shoot a wide grin at Derek.

“I’ve always liked this one.  Big old ship, hauled away to be smashed up into little pieces.  Too old to get it up anymore.”  The kid tapped lightly on his legs, adjusting the thick rim of his glasses with one hand while Derek’s lips drew into a thin line with annoyance.  “What do you think?  Or are you more of a modern art type of guy?  Nah, with that suit and those biceps, you’re probably into performance art.  A little bit of whips and chains, perhaps?”

Derek’s look must have been incredulous because the kid finally shut up, turning to stare back at the painting once more.

“It’s a fucking big ship,” Derek bit out, aiming for polite but knowing it came out more like a growl.  Fucking youth.  He moved to stand up.  “Excuse me.”

“Agent,” the boy said quietly, his smirk turning into a shit-eating grin.  

Oh,  _fuck_  no.  Derek sighed with the weight of the universe and sat his arse back down on the bench, hands gripping his knees and the cotton of his trousers.

“Seriously?  You’re like what, twelve?”

The kid next to him scoffed and reached into his parka to pull out an envelope, fiddling with the edges.  “Recruited young, first year uni.  Not like it’s any of your damn business, but thanks for asking.  And how old are you?  Thirty-seven?”

Derek bit out a laugh at the attempt at an insult, noting the way the kid’s lips curved at the edges and how his nose was slightly upturned.  There was a smattering of moles along his cheeks and neck, a rich chocolate colour, his eyes a honey-brown behind the rims of his glasses.  The whole ensemble made him look whip smart and like an arsehole at the same time, and it was more than a little attractive.

“That’s none of  _your_  business,” Derek said with a slight raise to his eyebrow, turning his eyes back to the painting so he didn’t feel like such a creeper for staring.  “Q.”

“007,” he acknowledged with a slight nod, holding out the envelope for Derek to take.  Their hands brushed in the exchange, and Derek noticed the long fingers and the way they were slightly sweaty against him.  “I go by Stiles, but yes, that is my nerd name.”

“I didn’t know we were hiring teenagers.”

“You’re just jealous of my hot bod,” Stiles quipped, reaching into his other pocket to produce a black case and playing with the buckle.  His slight pout was just a little endearing.  

“Right.  That’s my concern.  And not you being on the other end of the line in Batman pajamas while I’m getting my arse kicked.”

“How did you know I have Batman pajamas?”  Stiles shot Derek a fake look of shock that was more adorable than he had any right to be.  “Besides, I’ve got the fastest fingers in the Wild West here.  You’re in good hands.”  He wiggled his fingers for emphasis before flipping open the case and tracing along the dull metal of the gun nestled there in black casing.  

“That makes me feel so much better.”  Derek accepted the case, inspecting the gun discreetly and pushing his finger into an empty indentation.

Stiles snapped his gum, answering Derek’s unspoken question by dropping a tiny radio into his hand.  “Push this little clicky thing and we’ll come find you.  That’s it.”

Derek pushed the button experimentally a few times before tucking it in the inner pocket of his jacket, reaching to adjust his tie.  

“Oh, and try not to break anything with your fat fingers.  My predecessor warned me about you.”  

“I don’t have…” Derek began before thinking better of it and snapping the case shut.  

“Looking forward to whispering in your ear.  In my Batman pajamas.”  Stiles stood and winked like an arsehole, tucking his hands into his pocket.  When he was standing he looked ten times lankier, like his body had grown too quickly and his shoes were just trying to keep up.

Then he was off, barely managing to avoid tripping into a velvet rope and shooting a quick grin back at Derek before adjusting his glasses once more.  Derek gripped the case, thinking he was well and truly fucked judging by the uncomfortable hard-on in his crisp trousers and the way he stared after Stiles’ arse, hidden by the bulky parka.

Derek waited five whole minutes until he felt calm enough to leave and walked out slowly, cursing skinny legs and upturned noses and definitely not looking forward to that teasing voice in his ear at all.


End file.
